Ordinary Person

They asked me to

never make someone your

everything because 

even the most beautiful 

people in your life will 

break your heart, but 

some speck of idealism within,

glowing like a will-o’-the-wisp 

made sure I didn’t listen, 

I thought you’ll forever transpose 

this song of life 

from a Drop D tuned, grungy,

angst-ridden mess 

to something in major –

melodic and uplifting, 

I thought you’ll help me 

see strong, steely Gabriel  

and white-robed, brilliant Uriel  

instead of grotesque 

gargoyles with fangs, 

but I was wrong, 

and the demands I made 

only pushed you away, 

I made you my idol, my 

little golden goddess whom I 

worshipped and only 

now realise that isn’t love, 

it’s hankering for a better 

dream, pinning all your 

hopes on a person just as 

finite as you are, and expecting

them to work miracles by 

healing your madness, 

supercharging your self-esteem, 

and answering your prayers,

it was selfish, but I don’t 

know what was worse, 

you trying to be the prophetess 

of goodwill, I made you out to be, 

imploring me to believe 

that the epoch of refreshment 

and peace was coming

with the softest raindrops 

and the scent of jasmines,

or me convincing myself

that I was insanely in 

love with you just because 

now and then 

a soothing tune gave me 

respite from the 

nightmares and apparitions 

that wove their way out of 

the cracked, beige walls 

of the bedroom, threatening 

to pull me within 

and silence me forever 

with their screams.